by L. L. Muir
“Nay, lass! Get back. Dinna listen to him. Ye canna trust his word, and I’ll be damned in Hell for eternity before I’ll allow ye to put a noose around yer own neck!”
“I’m sorry to interrupt…” A new voice caught their attention.
Norleigh turned to the side and backed toward the barrel, swinging the point of his gun between Connor and the door where a head of white-blond hair stood out in the darkness. The handsome Viscount Forsgreen, future Duke of Rochester, stood with a large pistol trained on Norleigh.
“Admit it, Lord Gray. You’ve never been so happy to see and Englishman before. Am I right?”
“That depends, Yer Grace. Do you have the key?”
Norleigh moved toward the door. “Thank goodness you’ve come, Your Grace. I heard the woman scream and came to her aid, but it seems as if these two have been plotting to kill me. Apparently she blames me for her brother’s suicide, and they lured me—”
“We’ve been listening for a long time, Rupert.”
Norleigh turned his head sharply. “We?”
The large form of Lord Ashmoore separated itself from the shadows and stepped to the side of the door as Viscount Forsgreen swung it open. Norleigh recoiled and tossed his gun on the floor, his eyes flashing, his face pale in the lantern’s light.
“You and Harcourt failed to return to the veranda, so Northwick went after him and Ash and I came looking for you.” The viscount collected the gun and tucked it into his pocket. “We made the mistake of with the upper floors. We should have thought to come here first. Though we arrived in time to hear how Norleigh murdered Lord Dennison.” He turned to Mercy. “I am sorry, my lady.”
She was suddenly lifted into the air by two strong hands grasping her ribs. Her skirts swayed to the side as she was moved swiftly away from the others and had her back pressed against the wall. Connor’s face was level with her own and though it would have been a simple thing to lean forward and kiss her, he glared at her instead.
“Are ye mad? I told ye to get back, aye? And instead, ye pranced out to do the devil’s biddin’?”
She couldn’t help smiling she was so grateful he was alive. But he needed reassurance, it seemed, so she wrapped her arms around his neck to do just that.
“I had no intention of cooperating. I just wanted to distract him until you came to your senses.”
“My senses?”
“You thought you were impervious to bullets.”
“Ye don’t understand, lass—”
“And I would rather have died myself than stand by and watch you die again.”
He opened his mouth to interrupt, but no words came out. After a moment, he leaned forward and took that kiss he should have taken from the start.
The kiss was passionate on both their parts. Mercy tried to convey how thrilled she was to have him return from the dead. And what he tried to convey to her seemed just as extraordinary. It was impossible to know whether her difficulty breathing was due to the emotion coursing through her or the press of his warm, firm hands against her ribs, but she thought she could go on that way forever.
Finally, he paused to catch his breath and allowed her to do the same. “Ye would have mourned me?”
She sighed. “Of course, I would have mourned you. You came after me. You nearly died for me. I only wish I deserved your devotion.”
A wide grin set off ripples in his cheeks. “Ye have no idea how lovely that sounds, lass. And I didnae ken how badly I wanted to hear such a thing, that I would have been mourned…”
“And loved?”
His breath caught and he searched her eyes like he was looking for proof. But he should have been looking at her lips instead…
“I seem to be interrupting again,” said the viscount.
Connor pulled back and gave her a wink, then set her on her feet again. “We’re not finished,” he whispered. Then, to the viscount, he said, “Aye? What now, ye bletherin’ bag of manners?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
At the other end of the room, Lord Norleigh knelt on the stone floor, his arms raised out to the sides and his hands shaking as if he were objecting. Behind him stood Lord Ashmoore who held a long blade against the other man’s throat.
Connor pressed Mercy’s head against his chest to spare her from witnessing the man’s murder.
“Lord Gray?” Stanley gestured toward the other two. “It is your right to execute the man.” He cocked his head and waited for a response.
But how could he respond to an invitation to do murder? Even with his own life in danger, Connor hadn’t been able to pull the trigger. And as much as he hated to admit that Norleigh was right about anything, he had been right about that killer instinct. Either you had it or you didn’t.
And if he’d met the enemy on the battlefield at Culloden, instead of being shot down, would he have been able to kill then?
He would never know. And after holding Mercy Kellaway in his arms, neither the question nor the answer mattered.
“I am surprised to find I have a healthy respect for life, my lord. Shocked, even. But I suppose that is what a woman can do to a man.” He sobered. “But nor could I stomach allowing such a monster to roam free, mind.”
Ashmoore nodded, then grasped Norleigh’s hair and pulled his head back, exposing his neck. The kneeling man hissed. Ashmoore paused and looked at Stanley, who shook his head.
“I believe the honorable way to handle matters is to avoid a trial.” The viscount bent over Norleigh. “Lord Gray will challenge you to a duel, of course.”
Connor shook his head. “Did ye not hear me, man? I’ve just said I cannot take his life. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I have wished to have killed an Englishman more times than I can possibly count. But…”
Stanley waived his ruffled sleeve impatiently. “Of course, for Miss Kellaway’s sake, you should immediately board a coach to Gretna Green. What say you?”
“I… That is…” There was nothing for it. He had no other excuse to offer. He would have to tell him his dilemma. So he turned to Mercy first. “Will ye wait for me at the top of the steps, my love? I must work something out with these fellows first. And then I’ll hurry to yer side, aye?”
“You need not marry me, sir—”
“Bite yer tongue, lass. And wait at the top of the stairs.”
She nodded and finally left the cell, and he was finally able to breathe freely with some distance between her and Norleigh.
He moved to the table and sat on it while he wondered what to tell the two who had come to their rescue. He owed them the truth, but he didn’t think they could handle much of it. In the end, he settled for the important detail.
“I’m afraid the devil will be coming for me before another day is out.”
Stanley frowned. “The devil?”
At least neither of them laughed. And Norleigh, afraid for his life, remained silent.
“Aye. He’ll be coming for his due. Ye see, I’ve a grave debt to pay…that has naught to do with money.”
Stanley cocked his head. “You’re ill?”
Connor shook his head. “It’s the wee hours now. Let’s say, I’ve been enjoying a reprieve from past sins, and by evening, that reprieve will end.”
“Jail?”
“The gallows?” Ashmoore’s deep voice echoed eerily.
Still, he couldn’t lie. “When my time is up, I’ll no longer be among the livin’.”
A drawn out silence followed. Finally, Stanley sighed. “But you do have a day…”
“Part of one, perhaps. I might be…collected at any moment.”
The man nodded. “So you must go now. Take her away from here, give her your name, if there is time—”
“My name comes with nothing—”
“And when you are…gone, she can return to London. Between the four of us, we will see she has what she needs.”
“She has nothing. And I won’t have her—”
Stanley waved his hand again. “She can eventually marry.
”
“Re marry.”
“Yes. You have my word.”
Connor nodded toward Norleigh. “And what about him?”
“The duel will eliminate him.”
“But if I am heading to Scotland—”
“Your second will stand in for you,” Ashmoore said.
“Ye?”
The big man nodded.
“Not to worry,” said Stanley. “Norleigh’s second will make certain he arrives at the duel hale and healthy.”
“And who is fool enough to be his second?”
He bowed. “Viscount Forsgreen, at your service.”
“Ye aren’t foolish enough to fight Ashmoore, surely.”
“No one is that foolish—who has a choice.”
Connor acquiesced, confident that the bulldogs would see justice done. He looked at Norleigh. “I challenge ye. Did you hear that, Norleigh? I’m calling you out.”
The man shook his head. “I will not accept.”
Ashmoore nodded. “Yes, he will.”
“It’s settled then,” Connor moved to the door. “At the end of the orchard, just before the hillside. Meet me there at dawn. If I am able to be in two places at the same time, I promise I’ll be there. If not, my second will attend ye.” He turned to Ashmoore. “Are you so certain ye wish this man’s death on yer conscience?”
“He’ll be given a chance to fight.”
“Hardly sounds the same as a fighting chance, aye?”
The sober man shrugged. “Tell the devil not to wait on me.”
“I will.”
~
Norleigh and the henchmen were locked in the cellar and guards were sent for. The magistrate would be called for only after the duel was over.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Mercy paced at the top of the stairs for so long she worried that the men had found another way out of the cellar and chose not to face her after all. But finally, to her heart’s relief, Connor appeared followed by the two who had come to their rescue.
Of course she had every confidence that Connor would have been able to save her in the end, had the other two not appeared when they had. But she was grateful he hadn’t been forced to take Norleigh’s life. No matter what had happened in the past, it was refreshing to think that they wouldn’t have to carry that deed into the rest of their lives.
Their lives together.
Heaven help her, she’d been prepared to marry in the next day or so, but she’d never been happy about it. And at the moment, she was positively giddy knowing that she might be marrying a man she could love!
That was, if Connor Gray wanted to marry her. After all, it hadn’t been his idea to take her to Gretna Green, but the viscount’s.
“Dinna worry that pretty lip of yers,” Connor said as he reached the top step. “That’s my new job, aye?”
She hadn’t realized she’d been chewing her lip and promptly stopped. “I want you to know,” she began her practiced speech, “that you are under no obligation to marry me, sir—”
He scooped her up into his arms and pressed his mouth to hers until she forgot what she’d intended to say. “Then tell me, just what must I do to obligate you to marry me?” He set her on her feet again and pulled her along to the stables.
~
Stanley clapped Connor on the shoulder when it was time for him to climb into the carriage with his would-be bride. “Don’t forget to tell her the rest, that if she finds herself alone in the world, for whatever reason, she has four friends at the ready.”
Harcourt and Northwick had joined them, and they, along with Ashmoore, gave a solemn nod.
Mercy opened the window and put a hand on the viscount’s arm. “Why are you doing this?”
“For him.” He nodded at Connor.
“What has he done for you?”
“Kept his promise to us.”
Harcourt grinned. “To marry you, so you wouldn’t need one of us to do so.”
She rolled her eyes. “Hardly flattering. And I’m sorry my plans for revenge put you all in jeopardy.”
Northwick stepped forward, took her hand, and kissed it. “Your actions, my dear, only made necessary the actions we should have taken long ago. We let the monster feed and grow. Now we will do what we should have done and put him down.”
She suddenly remembered her cousin. “Will you tell Condiff what has happened, and that my brother did not kill himself?”
“We will. But you can tell him when you see him again.”
“I have a feeling I won’t be returning for quite some time.”
“Or perhaps tomorrow,” said the viscount. “You may come to your senses. He is a Scot, after all.”
They had barely entered the main road when the lass got a wary look in her eye. At first, Connor feared she had taken Stanley’s words to heart.
“How did you do it?” She narrowed her eyes. “I saw you shot. And yet, you do not bleed. It couldn’t have missed you. It knocked you to the side.”
“Must have hit my belt buckle or something.”
“He was aiming at your head.”
He shrugged and looked away, unwilling to lie to her any further.
“I have a confession,” she said.
“Oh?”
“I heard you—what you said about the devil coming for you.”
He sighed. The jig was up. “So you don’t wish to marry me? Knowing I must fulfill another obligation right away?”
“So it is not the real devil coming for you?”
“Ye dinnae seem too frightened by the prospect. I am surprised ye deigned to climb inside the carriage with me.”
She shrugged a lovely shoulder. “I have just learned that the man I had intended to trick into marriage was much more of a monster than I had imagined. I have also had my heart shatter in my hands while I watched you die—though thankfully, I was wrong about that. And I have seen you insist, facing that armed monster, that you are invincible. I was terrified I would watch you die again. So I will be honest. I am terrified of losing you. So how could I be terrified of you?
“Oh, I could tell ye a tale that would make ye flee from me.”
“I doubt it. Not after…” She glanced away.
“After I couldn’t kill Norleigh when it came down to it?”
She nodded. “Because it would have made you a monster like him. And you’re a good man.”
He laughed. “No one, and I do mean no one, has ever accused me of being a good man.”
“Then no one has known you well.”
A strange green light lit the carriage interior, and though no one was there, Mercy had the strangest feeling that someone was sitting beside her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Connor blinked repeatedly, but the green haze swimming in his vision did not dissipate. Mercy’s brows pushed together and held, as did the tilt of her head, as if someone had pushed the pause button on a movie he’d been watching.
Sony smiled from beside the lass, sitting as calm as ye please in the 19th century. Her fancy robe glittered in the green light, but at least, if someone got a good look at her, the robe wouldn’t seem as out of fashion for the time as her denims would have.
His chest suddenly turned to heavy stone when he realized what her presence meant. “It’s too late then?”
“Too late?”
“I couldn’t save her in time.”
“Seems as thought you’ve saved her fine.”
“But her reputation. In her world, it will mean everything.”
Soni shrugged. “Then save it.”
“I beg yer pardon?”
“Whatever you were about to tell her, don’t.”
“And ye’d take me away, leave her sitting alone without explanation.”
She shook her head. “Do you love the lass?”
“What know I of love?”
“Dinna be daft, Connor. If ye were a mortal man, would ye want to marry her?”
He knew she was referring to their last conversation, when
he declared he had no intention of doing anything heroic. So he needed to convince her he’d changed.
He crossed his heart with a pair of fingers. “I swear upon my own grave, I’d give anything at all to have such a choice.”
“But you would choose her? Be faithful to her? And not go looking for a half dozen other lasses to try?”
“Dinna tease me, Soni. Is there such a possibility? For I’ll tell ye true, I’m finding it difficult indeed to see any other lass with this one roaming the earth. She never flinches when I try to tell her what manner of man I am. Much as ye never blinked when I told ye I was wicked.”
“And?”
“And she makes me want to be the man she believes me to be.”
The young witch tilted her head to the side. “I’ll tell ye a secret,” she said quietly. “Ye already are.”
Tears tumbled out of his eyes and slid down his cheeks. They were warm, and he was still alive to feel it.
“Tell me what to say, Soncerae, to earn the right to stay with her.”
“Ye’ve already said it.” She swallowed with difficulty. “Now give us a kiss goodbye.”
It couldn’t be possible! She had to be teasing him! “Ye mean it?”
“I do.”
“And I won’t find myself at the judgement seat come morning?”
“Ye’re a mortal man now, Connor. The next bullet will put ye in the ground. So I’d avoid them. And I’d stay out of the way of a certain Lord Ashmoore, to be sure.”
“Aye. Aye, I will.”
“And love her, Connor. Love her like ye’ve been waiting three hundred years to find her.”
He nodded, unable to speak. He clutched Soni’s hand to his heart for a long second, then pressed his lips to the back of it. But it was suddenly gone, and the green haze was fading slowly.
“A canny man like you can make a fine living in the 19th century, aye? Knowing what is to come. But dinna give yerself away, mind.”
The echo of her voice was gone with the last of the emerald glow.
Mercy blinked and looked about. “Did you see that?”
“See what, wife?”
She frowned. “A green light. And I am not your wife.”
“Must be the Northern Lights come down from Scotland to bid me back home again. And ye certainly will be my wife soon enough.”
